


B7 More Chill

by ProdigiousFeldspar



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fighting, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Pining, Squip AU, lots of fighting, some humor because I cannot help myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 10:34:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18071786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProdigiousFeldspar/pseuds/ProdigiousFeldspar
Summary: After the events of the final episode, Avon has a chance to reunite with Blake. However, Blake is now a supercomputer implanted in his brain. The universe has never been kind to Avon to begin with.





	B7 More Chill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by https://archiveofourown.org/works/17308115/chapters/40712243   
> I have never seen Be More Chill or listened to the soundtrack. I do like the idea, though.

Avon blearily opened his eyes to the sight of a stark, white medbay. He took in a shaky breath and closed his eyes. “Well now,” he muttered. For some reason, he must be the only one who survived. He had seen everyone else gunned down, had shot Blake in the back himself. Blake - he desperately tried to quash the disgusting sentiment and guilt that welled up within him. He had no time for this, he was the only one left, he had to figure out where he was. He had to escape and make a new life for himself. He had to make use of the miracle of survival he had been given. He had to keep going. 

He continued to lay there with his eyes closed once more, unmoving. What was the point? He had lost everything. All of his friends, his contacts, any bolt hole he could possibly find would have been found by the Federation already. Even if he found a place to hide out, it seemed moot without any of his shipmates. There seemed to no long be a reason to try if he was by himself.

To think he had been under the impression that he was better off alone. He had been a fool. 

“Ha! I never thought I’d see the day you would admit that one.” a deep voice echoed around him. It sounded just like -

Avon jolted upwards and cast his gaze wildly around the empty room. Empty room. The room was empty. There wasn’t even a speaker grate in the wall by which to project Blake’s voice to trick him. 

Avon sagged. With a self deprecating sneer he said, “ And here I am, so wracked with guilt that I’m hearing Blake’s voice.” He wondered if he’d hear the sound of gunfire from underneath the floor anytime soon. The Telltale Heart and all that. 

“Avon, it’s Blake. You are, in fact, hearing me. I’m not alive, no. But I’m not fully dead either.”

Avon’s face twisted unpleasantly but he ignored the voice he was hearing. This was ridiculous. He had certainly lost it for a time when he had thought Anna dead. But the extent of his turmoil, the rumble of Blake’s voice almost seemingly to be inside his head. It was unlike any grief he had ever experienced. So this was it, he had finally snapped. He was dimly surprised it had not happened sooner. 

Avon raised his hand to chew on his thumbnail, then dropped his hand, feeling sick. 

“Have you done that since we seperated? I must have rubbed off on you. Or it could be due to--”

“Shut up!” Avon shrieked at the empty room, immediately feeling foolish, “I refuse to believe I’m so far gone that I’m entertaining a phantom of my own imagination brought on by loss. Absolutely pathetic.” 

A brief silence. It was the type of silence that fills a room when you’re sharing a space with someone diligently working, but you can’t quite make out what it is that they’re doing. Avon half expected Blake to chime in and explain some sort of Revolutionary history or engineering tips, as he would when they were on The Liberator together. The silence stretched on and Avon grew more and more uneasy. 

Avon bared his teeth at the room, “What? Nothing to say to that?”

“Hold on, Avon... I’m working on -- Aha!” 

A flash of warm light briefly blinded Avon before it materialized into a person standing at the side of the med table. 

Blake gave Avon a tight smile, “Neat, huh?”

Avon froze, lips parted, eyes unblinking. He couldn’t think of a sharp retort, let alone anything comprehensible. 

‘Neat’. That had been the first thing Blake had ever said to him. 

Avon felt disgustingly, horribly close to crying. He would not, he could not. Not in front of Blake. If that really was Blake. Avon had been an adamant cynic for far too long to believe in a miracle such as this. He refused to entertain the terrible possibility that his mistake that had gotten everyone killed could be turned back by some sort of fairytale magic. He had killed Blake himself. Servalan had believed Blake to be dead due to one of his clones being cremated. The federation might have skipped the whole process and used a hologram in this case. It was simple enough to do. There was no way this could be his - there was no way this could be Blake. 

As vehemently as he shot down his hopes, he nevertheless got up and slowly approached Blake. Blake always had that effect on him. He could never stay away from the man, even when it endangered his precious self preservation. It was like a gravitational pull. And here he was, helpless to Blake’s magnetism even after the man had died. 

Avon kept his face carefully blank, trying desperately to keep himself grounded. He opened his mouth to speak, failed. Tried again. “You say you’re neither fully dead or fully alive simultaneously? I’ve never been one to believe in ghosts.” If Avon wasn’t swimming in emotion, he would be faintly proud of how controlled and disinterested his voice sounded.  
Blake smiled in that distantly infuriating way of his, “Have you heard of Squips?”

“Super Quantum Unit Intel Processors. An AI supercomputer in pill form experimentally produced by a small company on Earth.” Avon said without thinking and chastised himself for how deeply ingrained his need prove himself to Blake was. He narrowed his eyes, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Blake raised his eyebrows and after a moment his eyes turned from brown into a brilliant glowing orange, “There were more revolutionaries disguised as bounty hunters who managed to save you and I. Comparatively.” Blake motioned at himself, and his eyes dimmed to their normal state, “I had been in contact with Docholi who had been researching Squips. He was able to translate my brainwaves into the pill before I had fully died.”

“And you assumed I would want your mind connected to my own. How very like you to think of yourself first and disregard the quality of another person’s life.” Avon said hollowly. He didn’t mean it. How could he? He had grappled with his obsession for years. If holding out for a man to be alive even after seeing his corpse burned to ashes wasn’t devotion, then what exactly qualified? In their time on the Liberator Avon had felt the maddening pull of never being close enough to Blake. The constant war between his good sense and a forsaking passion to be something more to someone who only had eyes for the revolution. If what he was saying was true, Avon would have no choice and even though he glutted himself on being obstinate and aloof, having that choice taken away from him would be a gift Blake would never, ever give him. Avon’s attempted manipulation of threatening to leave hurt himself much more than it could ever hurt Blake. He knew that the acclaimed leader of the Freedom Party would never hold someone against their will but it would have been gratifying to be told, ‘I need you.’ or ‘please stay’. 

Avon still couldn’t drop the act, though. 

Blake crossed his arms with a sigh, “If you really think it that much of an invasion of your privacy and a hinderance, you could retch it up. You were administered the tablet--” His eyes unfocused and glowed slightly, before he blinked, “about 15 minutes ago, it might not have fully dissolved. The again, I don’t know if it’s reversible.”

Avon knew he had been cornered by his own reluctant, disgusting morals, “And leave you as a mushy, half formed pill? What a respectable ultimatum you’ve given me,” Avon snarled, finding comfort in being annoyed with Blake. It was almost like 2 years ago. It was them. 

Avon wasn’t thoroughly convinced this was not a dream (a nightmare, more likely) brought on by his brain’s jumbled synapses firing a finale of hallucinations as he slowly bled to death surrounded by Federation soldiers.

“It seems we’ll be working together again. Thanks for having me.” Blake said with a confident smile.

Avon hated his smile. Hated how he wanted to kiss it away, “How could you be so nonchalant? I shot you! In the back! You died!” Avon was fuming and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was angry with himself, Blake, or the universe in general. All three was par for the course, to be perfectly honest. 

Blake’s face softened slightly, “Avon, I forgive you for that. Even if I hadn't survived I would still forgive you.”

“And here I thought I had a decent grasp on how much of a complete idiot you are. How wrong I was.”

Blake rarely let emotion flow freely on his face, but he looked...Sad. “Avon, you’ll need to forgive yourself, too.”

Avon swallowed a scream. He opted for a different tactic.

“Now that you’re ‘alive’ I assume you’ll want to reform the Freedom Party, if anyone who had been decent or available had not been gunned down for nothing.” It was a low blow but seeing Blake wince was worth it, “And I’ll just have to go along with it because you’re taking control of me like you did the Liberator, is that right? I won’t go quietly Blake, I’m not like any of your other blind followers --”

 

“They were my friends and they were yours too!” Blake said, “Don’t pretend you’re not as devastated as I am. You know was well as I do that we’ve lost everything. But we have each other. We have a chance. We can still make a difference and make this all mean something. It doesn’t have to be for naught. Together we can build a new team and take down the Servalan.” 

Avon smiled cruelly, “I’m impressed. Even the death of everyone we fought with can’t stop you from spouting political ideology. You have no right to judge my emotional response on past events when you hide behind your pointless battle against the Federation so you don’t feel anything but anger. If you really want to be angry, be angry with me! I ruined your revolution, it was my fault we all got gunned down. I got Cally killed, I got Villa killed, I got Tarrant killed, I got Dayna killed, and I killed you!”

“But you didn’t! Stop trying to play the martyr, it doesn’t suit you.” Blake shot back.

“But it certainly worked out for you. And look what it got you. Nothing,” Avon smiled, he felt like his face would split, “Viva la Revolution.”

Blake’s face shuttered and he breathed in through his nose. Was it possible for a Squip to punch their host in the face? “Fine then. Be that way. You obviously need to get yourself sorted out,” Blake said coldly, then faded away. It took everything Avon had not to reach out to him, asking him to come back, begging him never to leave again. It hurt so much. Avon had no idea if Blake being alive or dead was more painful. This was agony.

A beat. 

There was an otherworldly shift behind his eyes and Blake reappeared, looking resigned, he sighed. “Avon, let’s work this out. We can have a proper fight and tear each other apart when we’re safe. We need to get off planet. You woke up sooner than expected, but I don’t know how long Docholli’s escape will buy us time.” 

What had brought on that sudden change of attitude? Blake had been furious and now he seemed only a bit put out. It was almost as if...As if he knew that Avon was as anguished as he was. 

Avon stiffened, horrified, “You can’t -- read my mind, can you?” He felt sick.

“Not unless I choose to. Which I won’t. After all, even through all of this, I’ve always-” 

Avon cut him off. The words ‘trusted you’ hung in the air between them.

“Alright, good. My plans at self-decapitation won’t be foiled.” Avon felt himself cooling slightly and was annoyed how easily Blake could placate him. 

Blake explained, “Being inside your mind is more like sitting alongside a stream. I can almost perceive vague emotions or thoughts but it’s up to my discretion whether I would like to muddy the waters, as it were.” Avon ignored his joke. He never clicked with Blake’s sense of humor anyhow. But the sentiment of breaking the tension was appreciated, if not embarrassingly mollifying. 

“But you looked after I hurt your feelings, very mature Blake. I commend you on using your newfound supercomputer capabilities for good.”

“It was boiling over, I didn’t look into it but I almost got scalded. Somewhat hard to miss, if you ask me.” 

“So you’ll stay far away from that part of my mind and not even look at it, and we’ll try to work together. Alright, we have ourselves a deal.” Avon said through clenched teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning on posting another chapter with some good ol' fashioned mutual masturbation. I just wanted to get this up and out of my googledocs. We'll see when I get around to it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and feel free to check me out at pfeldspart.tumblr.com, pfeldspar.tumblr.com or if you're feeling saucy ko-fi.com/pfeldspar


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